


Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

by reigningqueenofwords



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural AU
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 23:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords





	Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

Something that Cas never saw himself doing, was wrangling a slippery and wet five year old at seven in the morning. Chasing after a giggling little girl, who thought it was hysterical to leave a wet trail behind her. Despite the fact that her feet were wet, she never slipped. He wasn’t sure if that was a kid thing, of because she’d taken after her Uncle Dean.

When he finally scooped her up, she was grinning. “You got me, Daddy!” She laughed, finally allowing herself to be wrapped in the fluffy towel.

“You’d think you’d have a way to keep her in the tub by now.” Teased Dean as he walked by.  

Cas sighed. “I _did_. And then she figured out how to get around that.”

All he heard as he walked away was the sound of Dean laughing hysterically.

* * *

Pulling the pink shirt over his daughter’s head, he kissed her nose with a smile. “How are we doing your hair today, princess?” He asked.

She thought for a moment. “French braids!” She demanded. Of course that’s what she would pick. The one he still struggled with.

“Alright, have a seat.” He patted the spot on the floor between his legs and grabbed her comb. “What kind of flowers should we get today?”

“I like the colorful ones.” She said simply, playing with her dolls.

He chuckled. “I think we can get those.” His hands moved with care, working on braiding the little girl’s hair into to French braids. He’d improved since he started learning to do her hair. Sam had introduced him to YouTube, and let Cas practice on him. It was appreciated. He sat back, impressed with his work. “Go show Uncle Sam, and then put your shoes on, while I get dressed.”

“Okay!” She grabbed her favorite doll and took off.“

* * *

Her small hand held on to  his as she skipped through the store, heading for the flower display. She waved at the workers as she passed, having known many of them her whole life. They always lit up when they saw her. Stopping in front of the flowers, she looked around. “Those!” She pointed to ones at the very top.

“These?” Cas handed some to her.

“These are perfect. You think momma will like them?” Her eyes looked up at him, hopeful.

He gave her a soft smile. “She’ll love them.” He assured her. 

* * *

“Hi, mommy. I picked these for you.” She smiled, putting the flowers on her mother’s bed side table before climbing up on the bed. Cas leaned against the window, watching the scene unfold before him. “I can count really high now!” She was excited. “Daddy did my hair. It’s pretty.” He smiled softly.

You had been in a car wreck when Y/D/N was only a year old, and had been in a coma since. He held on to hope that something would give, that somewhere, God was listening to his prayers. The doctor’s told him that it wasn’t helping, and that even if you did recover, you’d never be the same.

Every Sunday since, Cas brought her to see you. It was the same every time. They would get up, he would bathe her, dress her up in something he knew you would love, did her hair, and while he dressed, Sam and Dean would tell her stories about you. After which, the two of them would drive to the store, where she would pick out the perfect flowers. Since she could talk, she told you about everything under the sun, sang to you, and told you stories. Cas didn’t need to talk. Just watching his little girl light up over the mother she never actually met helped him heal, little by little.

He wanted you to hear about every part of her life, even if you never woke up.

* * *

Cas groaned as he rolled over, his phone waking him  up. “Hello?” He answered.

“This is Doctor Frederick from Lawrence Memorial, is this Castiel Novak?”

“Yes.” He furrowed his brows, rubbing his eye as he sat up.

“It’s about your wife.” Cas’s stomach dropped, waiting for the worst. Having to tell his little girl her mother died, when every night he heard her pray for you. “She woke up.”

* * *


End file.
